


Primary Care

by Boji



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-18
Updated: 2006-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:18:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boji/pseuds/Boji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About a boy, from a bear's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primary Care

**Author's Note:**

> Jack Harkness (CiN Drabble Challenge)
> 
> This t-shirt (as modeled below by Jack, thanks to photoshop) was going to be my only contribution to the _Children in Need _thread over on [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/torch_wood/profile)[**torch_wood**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/torch_wood/) but a prompt proved inspirational. [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/jemzamia/profile)[](http://www.livejournal.com/users/jemzamia/)**jemzamia** prompted:_ Pudsey bear joins the hub crew._
> 
> And this is what the muse said. I blame Jack utterly for most of this, and Pudsey's kind heart for the rest.

 

Sold off in a job lot on _E-Bay_, Pudsey bear came into his new home packed in a box next to something which felt... evil. He'd heard the grown-boy who'd opened the box, deftly, call them _siren-stones,_ then hand them to another boy to lock away in a toy cupboard he'd called an _archive_.

They'd then left _him_ to languish on a desk, in a box, all day. Lights too bright, shadows growling at him. A third boy, all cocky grin and sarcasm, had casually said he could drop Pudsey off at the children's ward on his way home. And though Pudsey's teddy-heart was bruised at the idea of being passed along like a common parcel, he knew he could ease a sick child's suffering. Offer his furry belly up to tearful eyes, ignore snot trails which might make his fur clump together. He was a Pudsey. He knew more about suffering than the average bear. But the spiky-haired, rude, boy had left him in the box. And that was where Pudsey resigned himself to stay.

He never expected agile hands to tuck him into the crook of an elbow and carry him downstairs at the end of a working day. He never expected the grown-up boy to want to keep him. But as socks and shoes and braces came off, as his new-boy took off his blue shirt and his trousers, then pulled his t-shirt off over his head and sat on the side of a hard, thin, narrow bed; Pudsey could tell from the droop of his shoulders and the curve of his spine that this boy was sadder than sad. That he, Pudsey, was needed more than the average boy needed the average bear. And so he accepted the silent invitation and stayed.

The boy Pudsey now cuddles with, smells of soap, shampoo, and after-shave. Some nights he smells of tears or, worse still, stinks with fear. But Pudsey's no stranger to nightmares. He can protect a grown-boy just as well as a little one.

Oh, they had one moment when Pudsey was scared he'd be given away. When he'd ended up having to clench his teddy-teeth and brave the spin cycle in the washing machine. But it was better than being handed on to a different owner, to a younger child. And that was what most boys did when they grew up enough that his fur was often smeared with salty boy-cream that dried hard and flaked, like pastry crumbs. It hadn't been so bad being rubbed against Jack's belly; not bad at all, even if his fur was sometimes used as if he were tissue. It was well worth it for the smile Jack had on his face when he tossed Pudsey into the washing machine, along with his sheets and t-shirts.

The dizzying rumble dance Pudsey endured in the washing machine was easier to bear than the nights he sat alone, by Jack's pillow, worrying. Those were the nights Jack stayed awake drinking, or when he came home smelling of slime and death, and the bug-guts that all little boys are made of. Pudsey also preferred a date with the washing machine than the nights when Jack came home smelling of sugar and spice, and little girl's vice.

Nestling against the crook of a boy's hip (instead of being pulled in close against a heart-beat) Pudsey had to admit was new... exciting, a little un-nerving. But it soothed Jack and that was what mattered. After all, comfort is the primary role in the teddy-bear handbook.


End file.
